Percy was back in his private chamber – well… his new chamber. The Queen had relocated him closer to her, to make passing royal jelly and Gloomy Dawn to one another more convenient. He was currently sitting cross-legged, contemplating his next step.

  ‘It’s probably better to wait until my clones are done in the Vault before absorbing the fiend,’ he decided.

  He wasn’t just making excuses to postpone what promised to be an agonizing experience. If the acquisition of his fourth trait was as bad as the previous one – and it was most definitely going to be even worse – there was a good chance that he wouldn’t be able to maintain his empowered cords, which would cost him the ability to communicate with his clones.

  ‘Alright. I’ll focus on teaching the alchemists for now. I’ll accompany Freddy back to the settlement the next time he visits.’

  His friend hadn’t brought him any concerning news about Machaon or the Great Houses yet, which had to be a good thing. Once again, it was clear that the gods had no intention of getting involved in his war against the White-cored mage, probably planning to use the disgraced leader of House Asclepius as yet another whetstone for him.

  Thankfully, this peaceful intermission only worked in Percy’s favour.

  He would never forgive the asshole who had massacred Nesha’s family, but he knew that he wasn’t nearly strong enough to defeat him yet. He wasn’t sure whether Archibald would be able to compete with a White after mastering the Dance either.

  Consequently, Percy’s best course of action was to concentrate on building up his strength. For the first time since his original escape from the Fungal Spire, he finally had a chance to settle down at a quiet, fortified, and mana-rich location, without anyone willing or daring to bother him.

  He was confident that he would surpass his enemy sooner rather than later, as there was nobody on Remior who could grow faster than him.

  ‘It’s late outside. I guess Freddy will be back sometime in the morning.’

  Shrugging, Percy was about to brew a few Green potions to kill time, when he noticed something strange by the corner of his eye. Everywhere else in the room, the colourful motes drifted in familiar ways – he could tell, because he had just spent the past few months studying them for several hours per day.

  Not there, however.

  The magical particles in that spot appeared to behave weirdly. Watching them carefully, Percy allowed the illusionary projections to leap forth from the motes in an attempt to trace their supposed trajectories. Unlike his previous test, his predictions quickly proved completely inaccurate.

  ‘No… all the other motes are flying exactly like they’re supposed to. It’s only that spot that’s different…’ he noted.

  Glancing back at the strange region, he realized that the particles had already returned to normal, almost as if he’d imagined the whole thing, though Percy was confident that he hadn’t.

  “You can show yourself,” he said, struggling to mask his irritation. “I knew that you had to be watching me from time to time, but I didn’t expect you to sneak into my room like a creep.”

  A soft sigh echoed through the otherwise quiet cavern, an invisible veil seemingly lifting from the conspicuous patch of shimmering crystals and rare minerals to reveal a young-looking woman. She was objectively beautiful, her features seemingly carved out of the finest jade, without a single blemish on her pale skin.

  Percy naturally recognized her.

  Perhaps unexpectedly, she was wearing the same cheap rags that she had donned during their previous meeting, despite no longer having any need for a disguise. Was this how she always dressed?

  Either way, he had a tough time deciding whether her piss-poor attire was doing her a disservice, or whether it only accentuated her graceful figure and innate charms further. If there was one thing that had changed since Twilight City, it was that her fake Green core was nowhere in sight.

  “I guess the cat is out of the bag,” she said, her pearly voice ringing like a gentle melody. “I didn’t expect you to spot me. Is it because of your new spell?”

  Percy nodded absentmindedly, shocked by the intrusion. While he’d been the one to call the goddess out, he hadn’t expected her to reveal herself so easily.

  Her disguise had almost been perfect. She’d completely masked everything – her appearance, mana signature, body heat, any trace of willpower… even the fluctuations of her soul, despite famously lacking the soul affinity.

  If it hadn’t been for the slight disturbance in the flow of ambient mana that he had recently learned to read, Percy would have never seen through the illusion. The deity had realized that he’d been onto her, identified even that minor flaw, and adjusted her spell accordingly – all within mere moments.

  ‘Scary,’ he thought, swallowing hard. Then again, he probably shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone like her.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “You lied about your name,” he said, trying to appear calm.

  He had no idea why he’d opened up with that when he had a million more important things to talk about, but it was the first thing that came to mind. As early as during their meeting in Twilight City, Percy had known that he’d seen her somewhere before, but it was like his brain had kept getting distracted whenever he had been about to connect her to the statues and illustrations.

  It was only after guessing that the gods had been onto him for a while that whatever she’d done had started to fall apart, though he hadn’t been able to confirm his suspicions until today.

  “I didn’t lie,” she replied, her expression even. “’Phoebe’ is the name that was given to me by my parents, a long, long time ago. I did mention how languages evolve over time, didn’t I? Today, my name can loosely be translated as ‘Clarity’.”

  Percy chuckled. “A bit ironic given all the sneaking around, don’t you think? Were you planning to watch me from the shadows my whole life?”

  It was probably unwise to speak to a titaness so bluntly, but part of him was fed up with the secrecy. He’d long realized that the gods were interested in his growth – and he wasn’t very surprised by it either – yet there were so many things that he was still unable to explain.

  “Only until you grew a little stronger. I would have observed you from afar, but the dense ambient mana in the hive obstructs my senses, and this place is too important to ignore. Three of Remior’s most valuable – and fragile – beings are located here,” she answered.

  “Oh? And what’s going to happen when I’m stronger?” Percy asked again.

  “I’ll bring you to the Order, have you train under our gods, and join our strike force. But you’re not ready for that. Remior is still a better playground for you, and the Great Houses better playmates,” she explained, casually leaning back on a flat-ish surface on the nearest wall and crossing her legs.

  Percy didn’t appreciate being treated like a child, though he had to admit that it was probably justified by the ridiculous age gap.

  “I suppose that means that you won’t lift a finger to deal with Machaon?” he asked, perhaps a bit more aggressively than he’d meant to.

  Phoebe regarded him for a few seconds before replying. “Do I need to get personally involved? He seems like the perfect challenge for you at this point in time.”

  “Is that so? And what about the cost?!” he yelled, his outburst surprising even himself. “Is this all a game to you?! What about all those Blues who died chasing me? Some were just greedy or vindictive assholes, but many were only following orders from their families! What about everyone who will die in this conflict? Are they all just pawns to further your ends?!”

  The goddess narrowed her eyes. “You’re the one who killed them. Why are you shouting at me?”

  Percy clenched his fists. “It’s not the same. I was just a Yellow, chased by dozens of Blues. What was I supposed to do? I would have never survived this long if I’d kept sparing them. You could have ended everything with a single word!”

  The titaness shook her head. “I told you during our previous meeting. The Order’s duty is to Remior as a whole – not to a bunch of foolish mortals who should have known better. Besides, their lives weren’t wasted, in so far as they helped you grow stronger. If everything goes well, our world will reap the benefits of their sacrifice for millions of years to come. The same applies to Machaon. I’m sure that he will pay dearly for his crimes, but there is no need to waste the perfect obstacle for you prematurely.”

  “Am I supposed to be moved?” Percy chuckled again, but it sounded hollow this time. “You speak as if my growth is so important to you, but you were more than willing to let me – well… Micky – die.”

  The corners of the goddess’s rosy lips twitched, Percy’s words appearing to have finally struck a nerve.

  “That… was a mistake,” she muttered, her confident exterior showing the faintest crack for the first time. “I’m not all-knowing. From my perspective, the crow had held you back for years by clogging up your cords. That said, it’s not my fault that he was about to die, nor was I obligated to save him. I wasn’t the one who sent Deimos – or anyone else – after you either. You’ve provoked them all by yourself. If anything, I was the one holding our gods and Green-borns back from coming after you.”

  “You do realize that you’re currently talking to ‘the crow’, right?” Percy asked, giving her an odd look. “I’m only alive due to dumb luck. Half of me, at least. I’m assuming that you would have at least intervened to save the human – given that you were the one who cut off our only escape.”

  “Look… I made a strategic decision. I left my feelings out entirely, doing what I thought was best for Percy, and I admit that I was proven wrong on the substance of that choice too. If you want to hold this against me, so be it. Feel free to kill or imprison me as soon as you surpass me. I won’t even resist, but this will have to wait until Remior no longer needs me.”

  Percy raised an eyebrow, having not expected such an honest concession from the titaness. For all her flaws, she seemed to genuinely care for their world. He couldn’t help but contrast her against the only other titan he knew. The way she treated those under her wasn’t perfect, though it was markedly better than Metatron.

  More importantly, her motives appeared entirely different. As far as Percy could tell, the divine pentapus had only created the Vault to serve himself, while Phoebe was at least trying to make Remior better for everyone in the long-term – albeit in her own way.

  Finally, Metatron was arguably mistreating his subjects out of choice. The artificial world had already proven capable of evading capture even from the universe’s leading factions, so the titan could have clearly chosen to prioritize his people’s well-being. Meanwhile, Phoebe was racing against time to strengthen their world before an enemy too powerful to handle happened to invade.

  Percy sighed, finding it increasingly difficult to hate the goddess. “I wish you had tried to do better by Remior’s commoners and low-borns though. Not just those you deem useful.”

  The titaness slid down the wall to plop down on the ground. “I told you before. Our current system is already better than it was when Kronos and I came to power. Sadly, there wasn’t enough nectar for everyone. We didn’t have your boosting art, your fancy runes, the alchemic principles that you have mastered, or the ability to create additional – stronger even – Starry Queens. We can’t afford to slow down the production of bloodlines either. Even after countless generations of noble Houses appearing or falling apart, only a few of our gods possess a decent bloodline.”

  Percy remained silent for a few seconds, letting her words sink in. “You’re right. I don’t know what it was like when you took over the Order, but I’m pretty sure that we can do a lot better now.”

  “I agree.” The titaness nodded. “Why do you think I’ve handed you the Fungal Spire over the past year? By all means, go right ahead – paint whatever picture you want. Remior is your canvas.”

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